


Consolation

by LdotRage (ObliviousInsomniac)



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Diamond & Pearl & Platinum | Pokemon Diamond Pearl Platinum Versions
Genre: Angst, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulation, Murder, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 23:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6588421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliviousInsomniac/pseuds/LdotRage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saturn is in the hospital and scared of how Cyrus will react. He snaps at Mars and she runs off. Luckily, Jupiter is there to set him straight and send him after her with some apology flowers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consolation

Today was _not_ my day.

Of course, I couldn't really be swayed just by one incident. That wasn't nearly enough to turn my mood sour. I was accustomed to failure, after all; it was practically all I'd known since becoming the lead commander of Team Galactic. No; what really got me pissed off was the fact that I'd been assaulted with a nonstop barrage of bad news since I made the error of leaving my bed this morning.

At first, it was nothing too horrible. A slight headache that persisted through the morning. A glass of milk that I found out too late was expired. A near-loss at the hands of a smug Jupiter who would never let me forget just how close my Toxicroak had been to fainting. But they all compounded, and now they were smashed together by the crown jewel of today's disappointments.

Allergies.

As it turned out, I was deathly allergic to the most imperative ingredient in our work in progress, the innovative Galactic Bomb. Luckily, I'd only made contact with a few milligrams, and our doctors had been able to keep me from going into cardiac arrest. However, that didn't change the fact that I'd been strictly forbidden to even enter the same room as the Galactic Bombs again until the chemical mixed with the other core components of the explosive and lost its effect on me.

In other words, I had to abandon my assignment. I would be forced to pass it on to someone else despite the fact that all of the commanders were overworked as it was. This would require a lot of paperwork and a lot of hassle.

Cyrus was going to _kill_ me.

At first, I'd just been mildly annoyed with the situation, but then one of my underlings just _had_ to come along and ask what I was going to do about our boss. That was when I started to panic. Master Cyrus was rather stoic, sure; no one would dare deny that. But that just meant that he had not a bone of remorse in his body and his ethics were... well, _l_ _oose_ , to say the least. Forget avoiding punishment. My biggest priority was getting out of this situation without losing my job—or my life.

So now I was laying uselessly in a hospital bed, the sheets tucked so tightly that my weakened limbs couldn't push them off, waiting for a terrifying blue-haired man to walk in calmly, listen to my explanation calmly, and then probably tear me limb from limb.

Every time the warp panel that would lead to this corridor so much as blinked irregularly, I would flinch in response. Toxicroak, catching on to my nervousness, tried to distract me by juggling some Sitrus berries, but, to her chagrin, I was inconsolable. There was a possibility that I was going to _die._ As far as I was concerned, I had every right to be jumpy. When Cyrus failed to appear even fleetingly, I only grew more apprehensive. What was I going to say? How was he going to react? He hated weakness with a burning passion; did he see allergies as a weakness just like he did emotions? I was under no misconceptions: if he thought I wasn't worth keeping around, he would kill me without a moment of hesitation.

 _'No. That's not accurate.'_ I swallowed thickly, my eyes darting rapidly between the warp panel that he would come from and the IV in my arm that prevented me from bolting even if I could get the sheets off of me, which was doubtful in and of itself. _'He wouldn't want to get his hands dirty. No, he would have one of the other commanders do it.'_ Truthfully, strong though he was, Cyrus wasn't one to do his own work. That was what we were for.

My fists clenched, tightening around the bunches of material they held.

' _He would probably have Mars do it.'_

Mars was the newest of our commanders, having recently risen in the ranks. She'd started off as a lowly grunt who I didn't even know existed, but her supremely talented maneuvers she could pull off with her Purugly quickly warranted promotion. As such, she would get stuck with the dirty work, such as murder of members who Cyrus wanted eliminated. I knew that first hand.

 _My throat tightens painfully as the nameless grunt scrambles backwards, eyes wide and overflowing with tears. Her back collides harshly with the wall and she begins to hyperventilate. She's trapped, her precious partners too weak to fight. "No—no, please—!" she gasps as I step forward. Her body is shaking uncontrollably as she shrinks back into the corner, throwing up her arms to shield her face. "Please..._ please... _I-I don't wanna die..." she sobs, breaking down. I reach forward and wrap my fingers around her neck, lifting her into the air. She struggles and writhes weakly in my grasp, wheezes tearing themselves through her throat as the life slowly leaves her..._

The familiar _fwoop_ of a warp panel activating broke me free of my flashback. For a moment, I was nothing but grateful, sighing in relief. It only took me an instant, however, to remember just who I'd been expecting and jump, wheeling around almost violently to face the room's new occupant. "Master Cyrus, I-I can explain—!"

I froze.

"What's the matter, Saturn?" Mars teased, grinning widely. I caught a mischievous spark in her bright red eyes. "You're not scared of little old me, are you?"

I exhaled harshly through my nose. Of _course_ it wasn't him. I just wanted to get this over with before anything else had time to go awry, but the universe was officially plotting against me today. "Mars," I acknowledged, my voice still tense enough to give her back problems just by listening to it. "Why are you here, exactly?" Now that I had lost my burst of adrenaline, I was way too tired to deal with her shenanigans.

Her antics were funny, yes. Fun to watch, yes. Enough to warrant my undeniable, huge _crush_ on her, yes, although I'd never admit it to anyone. But something I wanted to deal with when my life was hanging in the balance? Not so much.

To my surprise, she didn't respond with the sharp wit and smug grin she usually deployed. Instead, she gave me a withering look, dropping herself into the chair beside my bed. "Oh, no particular reason. Besides the fact that _my friend is in the hospital."_ She nonchalantly tossed a get-well card onto the covers, not seeming to notice that my arms were trapped under them. "I'm here to visit you. Sheesh. I mean, what kind of person do you take me for?"

I blinked. _'Oh.'_ That was something I hadn't been expecting. I liked Mars—I _did_ have a crush on her—but I couldn't see her ever reciprocating my feelings. I was _not_ her type, to put it lightly; a bit too stiff and disapproving of her crazy, harebrained schemes. I was too boring for her. Still, it was a kind gesture, and the idea of anyone being concerned enough to visit me was heartwarming, so, although I doubted her motives, I offered a genuine smile in return. "Thanks, Mars."

Smirking at me in reply, she flipped a lock of scarlet over her shoulder. "No prob. Besides, looking at my hot bod should get you healed in no time." Striking a pose, she blew a teasing kiss in my direction. I could practically feel it nail me in the forehead.

My face quickly became a slightly darker shade of crimson than her matching hair and eyes. _"M-Mars!"_ I hissed sharply, reprimanding her for the inappropriate (not to mention embarrassing) comment. Just because she had a body most women would kill for didn't mean she had the right to mock me about it. Especially not when I was trying to recuperate from a near-death experience and anticipating being faced with another.

She only threw back her head and laughed heartily at my response, placing her hands on her hips. "Oh, don't get your orbit in a twist," she managed to squeeze out between giggles once her initial hysterics began to die down. "I was just teasing."

Oh, yeah. She was definitely teasing. Still, my irritation quickly faded to be replaced with sorrow. _'She doesn't know.'_ No one but me knew just how far Cyrus would go to preserve Team Galactic's image. "You will be required to kill your friends if I deem them unworthy of my time" wasn't exactly in the job description. I found myself wondering just how heartbroken it would make her if she did have to kill me—if she had to kill anyone.

I wondered how heartbroken it would make me if the roles were reversed.

_Aquamarine eyes flash with betrayal as I press the cold edge of a knife against his throat, watching the tears slide down my underling's face. "C-Commander..." the kid whimpers, and it becomes painfully clear to me that he is only maybe 15 years old. Then his hair is shifting colors, becoming an all-too-familiar bright scarlet, but I don't stop. I don't stop, because Master Cyrus commands it. The blade slides into his—her?—delicate, exposed skin and, just like that, (s)he's dead, the precious lifeblood seeping out through my fingers as I cry brokenly..._

Quickly repressing those memories and sighing lugubriously, I let my head hang, my chin coming to rest on my collarbone with a hollow _clunk._ "Mars, I appreciate you coming to visit me, but I'm expecting Master Cyrus to show up, so—"

"Well, obviously," she interrupted, eliciting an exasperated groan from me. "I'm not deaf, you know. I did hear what you said when I first came in." Another smirk dominated her face and she reached over to pull a bit at the bit of hospital gown that was sticking out from under the sheets. "You know, if you want to sway him, all you have to do is strip a little. We all know you're his favorite; he's sure to listen if you lose the gown~!"

My face once again flushing crimson, I quickly threw away the intense urge to stutter out a denial that the boss was definitely not gay. Or straight. I was pretty sure he wasn't attracted to anything. _"Mars!"_ I snapped again, squirming a bit to dislodge her hand. Relieved that she'd removed it (I couldn't really get it off myself, what with these stupid restricting sheets), I glowered at her slightly, fighting the blood in my cheeks back down. "Like I was saying, I really think it's best if you—"

"Oh, come on, Saturn," she intervened once again, paying no mind to my growing irritation, "don't be so sensitive." But all I could focus on was the fact that those bright, happy eyes might very well soon be filled with tears as she slit my throat, the boss having decided that I was no longer worth keeping around. "Saturn?" Those bright, happy, concerned eyes. "You in there, Saturn?" She reached out to place a hand across my forehead.

I jerked my head roughly aside, denying her touch.

_"For God's sake, Mars, just shut up and leave me alone! Can't you see I don't want you here?!"_

She shut up.

For a long instant, there was silence, my head turning away as best as it could and Mars just staring at me in shock. By the time I realized just how unprecedented my outburst had been, it was too late. I spun around, mouth opening to apologize, but she only offered a curt "Don't." Her voice was glacial, and I obeyed immediately, not wanting to hurt her any more than I already had. The redhead quietly stood, pivoted on her heel, and marched over to the warp panel, her head down.

Just as she made to step on it and let it whisk her away, Jupiter materialized, shocking us both. In an instant, she appraised the situation—me watching helplessly as a pissed Mars stormed away—and made a desperate attempt to diffuse it. "I leave you two alone for one minute—" she began to joke, but Mars pushed past her before she could finish, leaping onto the glowing green pad and vanishing with a _fwoop._

Then there was silence once more and I realized from the ache in my chest just how empty I felt without Mars there to make fun of me.

Jupiter slowly made her way to my bedside, plopping down in the chair that Mars had occupied not ten seconds ago. "Do I want to know what happened here?" she inquired tenderly, shocking me with the gentle tone of her voice. If there was one word I'd use to describe Jupiter, it was decidedly not "gentle".

I opened my mouth to respond but quickly realized that I didn't know the answer myself. _Did_ she want to know? Most people would be much better off not knowing that their peer had been forced to kill people and they might be in the future as well. As far as I was aware, Jupiter hadn't ever had to kill someone, and I would rather she be uninformed and happy rather than knowledgeable and horrified.

Her kill count of zero may or may not have had something to do with the fact that, when the time came for her to kill someone just weeks before Mars's promotion, I volunteered, unwilling to see my coworker—my _friend_ —reduced to such a state. I'd done the same for her twice and Mars once so far, but I couldn't offer the same protection when I was the one who had to be eliminated.

Finally, I made up my mind. Perhaps I could give her the basics of what had happened without exposing her to the more... _unsavory_ aspects of my thoughts. Turning to face her and cursing the fact that I had to crane my neck thanks to my tethered-down status, I told her all about my reaction to the bomb chemicals, ignoring the fact that I wasn't supposed to tell them that the bomb even existed yet. She listened raptly as I chronicled the doctor's diagnoses and expressed my worries about how our boss would react. And, although I was hesitant, I told her all about Mars's visit and how I'd snapped at her.

I'd expected to be rebuked. I'd expected a smack on the arm, if not on the face. I'd expected to be told off—and rightfully so.

I _hadn't_ expected Jupiter to wordlessly grasp her Poketch and make a call, her fingers deftly dialing a number without her eyes even leaving me.

"Do you know Mars's favorite col—never mind; don't answer that. It's red, right?" Her voice was almost urgent despite the light subject matter and I couldn't help but wonder just what was going on in her mind to make her take this so seriously. Rather than asking, though, I just nodded dumbly. "Good. I'm sure that won't be hard to—" Right then, her Poketch stopped dialing and a voice crackled through.

 _"Commander Jupiter, ma'am!"_ It was unmistakably the voice of one of the three grunts directly under Jupiter's command. They were a step down from Commander and would battle to determine who would get her position if she died.

"You have access to the garden some grunts keep out back, yes?" I blinked. I had been unaware that the grunts kept a garden, yet I found myself to be entirely unsurprised. Some of the grunts were rather innocent; almost naive. It made me wonder how they would react when they learned of the Galactic Bomb. Jupiter didn't wait for an answer, though. "Gather a bouquet of red flowers and report to the hospital wing."

There was a slight pause. _"...ma'am?"_ the grunt cautiously asked.

A smirk crossed her face. "I'll explain later, but it's important, trust me." She paused momentarily, then her voice turned from a calm drone to a harsh bark. "Double-time, men! We need those flowers!"

The grunt seemed to accept her words, because it was with renewed vigor that he cried _"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"_ and hung up, no doubt snapping a salute out of pure instinct despite the fact that she wasn't even there. I had never been in his shoes, having joined Team Galactic in its early years and been skipped up past grunt straight to Commander. But I'd witnessed plenty of accidental salutes regardless.

As soon as the dial tone rang out, Jupiter flicked the watch off, then turned back to me, her eyes fierce. "You're going to go after her," she ordered simply.

I didn't respond at first; my mind was reeling too much. Then the words sunk in and a bit of panic rushed through my mind. "Go after her?!" I demanded, my eyes widening fearfully (although I'd never admit it to anyone but myself). "That'll just make things worse! She's pissed at me right now! If I try to console her, she'll just get even angrier!"

Without warning, she suddenly bent over, bringing her face within inches of mine and looking me dead in the eye. I jumped a little, staring wide-eyed at the dead serious expression that had crossed her face in an instant. Gulping, I shied back slightly. Had I managed to piss _her_ off, too? _Wow._ Talk about two for two.

But she only sharpened her gaze, trapping me there. "Saturn," she began, her voice low and stern, "you like her, don't you?"

Oh.

_Oh._

I immediately looked aside, avoiding further eye contact, and barely managed to suppress my fight-or-flight instinct. Of course, the fact that I was still pinned and could therefore do neither helped. "O-of course I do. She's my friend and coworker. I—"

Jupiter's fingers curled into a fist that slammed against the railing on my bed, shaking it roughly and jostling me harshly. I winced, hissing a bit in pain as my aching limbs jolted with the movement, but had no more time to reflect on that before she was hissing, "Don't play dumb with me. I'm no moron. I see the way your face changes when you think about her. You like her _that_ way." She stared even deeper into my eyes and I got the sudden feeling like she could read my mind from looking there hard enough.

"And she likes you back."

My mouth opened and closed as I sputtered like a dying Magikarp. She didn't wait for me to compose myself, though. "I know for a fact that Mars feels the same way you do, because she looks at you the same way you look at her." Here she leveled the me with a look so resolute that I couldn't help but believe her despite the protests I'd been ready to voice seconds before. "So _you_ are going to go after her." That said, she pulled back, knowing she had to give me some time to process her words before she said anything else.

Luckily, I was given extra time when the door swung open and a procession of three grunts marched in, trying their best to appear official despite the obvious informality of this mission. "Commander Jupiter, ma'am!" the apparent leader addressed her as he snapped to attention. His gaze quickly wandered to me and he gasped, something that looked like... _concern_ shooting through his eyes. Actual, genuine... _concern._ "Commander Saturn!" he cried in surprise, the other two grunts quickly following his line of sight. "Are you alright, sir?"

A small laugh escaped me as my mouth curved into a smile without my consent. This was surreal. I... honestly couldn't remember the last time someone had been worried about me. Now Mars, Jupiter and a grunt I don't even know, all in less than one hour? Maybe this terrible day would end up better than I'd expected. "I'm going to be fine."

"The flowers?" Jupiter prompted, and I only then caught sight of the handful of red and green the grunt was carrying. He blinked before immediately forking them over, glancing between us curiously as if wondering whether or not they were for me. I almost scoffed. It would hardly be romantic to literally sit there and have someone else fetch you flowers to give someone.

Much to my surprise, Jupiter proceeded to pull a ribbon from her hair, letting some of the orchid strands fall, and tied it around the bunch in a bow. It was black, which hardly fit the cheery mood that the bright red flowers exuded, but it was fancy enough to make up for its somber coloration. Turning to me, she held them out expectantly, fixing me with a soul-staring look.

"This is the moment where you have to decide," she informed me seriously. "Do you really care about her? Do you really love her?"

 _'Of course I don't! It's just my hormones acting a little late; God knows they missed their chance when I was a teen.'_ I opened my mouth. _'Of course I do. Would teenage hormones make me smile and chuckle when she gives me her reports a bit too playfully over the Poketch?'_ I closed it. _'I'm hardly experienced; it could be mere infatuation. I'm only drawn to her body.'_ Opened it again. _'Is it infatuation to just smile and nod when she talks about her latest boyfriend over breakfast because you want her to be happy, even if it's not with you?'_ Closed.

"Saturn?"

 _I pin the struggling grunt to the ground face-down, twisting her arms behind her back and pressing her into the linoleum. "Commander, please," she sobs as I pull up her sleeve, holding her arm in place. "P-please. Don't hurt me._ Please." _I hold the tip of the needle against her arm, and she flinches as it breaks the skin, plunging into her flesh. "No! No no no no no no—" She's sobbing now, squirming weakly as tears pour down her face.  
_

 _Then bright, familiar red eyes are looking down on the scene, and Mars kneels down, pulling my hand away; removing my thumb from the plunger. "Ssh... it's okay, Saturn..." she soothes, and I realize with a start that I'm crying, too. This isn't how it's supposed to go. I know how this goes; I've relived this memory a thousand times. I'm supposed to kill her. I'm supposed to_ kill _her, because the boss says so._

_"Ssh. It's okay." There Mars is again, her voice placating. "You don't have to follow him anymore. You don't have to listen to his orders anymore. Ssh..."_

"Yes," I replied, all of my hesitation gone; all of my reluctance seeping away. "I love her."

I felt four pairs of eyes on me, but I wasn't pressured like I should have been. Usually, in these situations, I would lock up and panic because _everyone is looking at me and what if I mess up what if I mess up oh God what if I mess up,_ but I wasn't afraid this time. All I knew was that I'd yelled at Mars and Mars had run away and now I had to make this right.

My limbs were stiff, sore, and swollen, and they almost didn't respond at all when I called out to them. But I remembered Mars, remembered _"Don't get your orbit in a twist,"_ and persisted, finally getting them to move. It triggered flashes of pain all up and down my limbs, and my muscles nearly spasmed, not used to such strenuous work after the break they'd been given. Still, I pushed forward.

Slowly but surely, I managed to prop myself up, the sheets falling away around me. They tugged at my shoulders invitingly, suggesting that I take a rest, and the idea was alluring. My spine felt almost displaced what with the regular bursts of pain that were trembling through my back, and my arms and legs were faring no better. But I couldn't stop now; the mere thought was appalling. I had to get to Mars. I had to take it all back.

I had to make this right.

Finally, I sat up, and I wasted no time in swinging my legs over the side of the bed clumsily. The second my feet made contact with the floor, I pushed myself onto them, only to topple immediately onto the tile. Jupiter caught my arm before my face could become best friends with the ground, and I soon felt another arm hooking into mine—one of Jupiter's grunts. The only one who'd reacted quickly enough was the only girl, and she practically had stars in her eyes like she was watching a TV show where the two main characters had just confessed to each other.

Both women helped me struggle to my feet, where I braced myself before shaking free of their grasps. "I can do this," I muttered aloud, my voice strained from the sharp stings and dull aches running through my body. "I have to."

Smiling at me softly, Jupiter offered me the bouquet and I took it gratefully, clutching it to my chest like a lifeline. The four quickly cleared out of my way as I staggered towards the green illumination of the warp panel, but I could see them hovering in case I fell again. But I wouldn't. I wouldn't allow myself any more weakness. Not now. Not when I still had to make things up to Mars.

Not when I only had a bit of time before Cyrus heard of the incident with the bomb and I had the most terrifying business meeting of my life.

Not when I still had to tell her.

Not when I was probably going to die.

* * *

I don't think I'd ever been more conflicted in my life, and it was all his fault.

Granted, I'd had feelings that truly clashed at one time before. I'd had bouts of time where I was unsure whether to laugh or to cry, and I always opted to laugh because crying was a waste of time and I could show everyone that I was not weak. These feelings were very similar, practically going hand-in-hand, and yet I found myself struggling to decide which one to side with because I couldn't side with both.

One part of me was completely and royally _pissed._ How _dare_ he snap at me like that when I was just trying to make him feel better? I didn't do anything wrong! It was all his fault! He'd just completely blown up over something with no weight at all! _How dare he?!_

And yet another part of me was morose as could be; enough to make me burst into tears several times over. I _had_ to have done _something_. Saturn was _not_ the type to just snap for no reason; he was the calmest member of Team Galactic!—Excluding Cyrus, of course, but the boss was more of a sociopath than anything.

Growling in frustration, I spun on my heel and continued to stalk back and forth across the room, feeling my heavy stomps leave momentary indentations in the carpet. I wasn't an idiot; I could tell that Saturn didn't like me. Lately, he seemed to be warming up to me a little, but I knew he could never feel the same way about me as I did about him. I wasn't his type, what with my constant horseplay and nonstop jokes. I was too rambunctious for him. But that didn't mean that I couldn't appreciate the time we had together.

I'd left behind a lot to join Team Galactic. My family. Most of my team. My status as an Ace Trainer. I threw it all away because I was drawn in and entranced by Cyrus's compelling motivational speeches—the ones that I had no idea how he managed since he despised emotions so much. And, at first, I'd thought that it wasn't worth it.

He proved me wrong. _They_ proved me wrong. Saturn and his stern demeanor that softened around his friends. Jupiter and her arrogance that was matched only by her understanding and support. Sure, I was still almost positive that I'd managed to get myself onto the wrong side. But, if this was the wrong side, then I'd happily stay there if it meant staying with my cherished friends.

Why had I chosen _him,_ anyways? Honestly, although I'd refused upright for the sake of my dignity as a legitimate Trainer, I'd been given multiple opportunities to join the Beauty class. I was good-looking, and there were few who didn't find beauty somewhere in me. Besides that, my nature was compatible with plenty of different people. I had options; so many options to choose from. And, although Saturn was hardly the worst I could do, I'd never have foreseen me ending up with him. He was so uptight! Hardly the most strict person I'd ever met, but certainly not the carefree person I'd always envisioned.

Not for the first time, I thanked God— _or Arceus, was it? That was the name I kept coming across in my research?_ —that this cargo room was currently empty. It had been my refuge for a while now since few other people dared to come back here; it was technically restricted. Of course, I was never one to keep away from an area just because I'd been told, so I'd crept in the first day of my membership and found it to be a good hiding place. As far as I was aware, no one knew about—

 _Fwoop._ Something hit the cement. Then— _"Errgh—!"_ Yet another something quickly followed suit.

I spun around, eyes narrowing, only for them to immediately widen. Rather than being the meddling grunt I'd expected, it appeared to be Saturn, judging by the impossibly-styled turquoise hair and his familiar attire, which was just a hospital gown and some matching hospital pants. But that wasn't what caught my attention the most, despite the fact that I was practically ready to tear off either his head or my own at this point.

No, I was more distracted by the fact that he lay on the ground in a crumpled heap, weakly attempting to push himself back up with little success.

Before I could stop myself, I was flying across the room, eyes wide and worried. "Saturn!" I cried, quickly kneeling down by his side and assisting him with his struggle to right himself. "Are you okay? Should you be moving around?"

He didn't respond, of course; he was too busy trying to regulate his breathing even though each inhale was clearly painful. I rapidly rummaged in my mind for information about his injuries, wondering if it was alright for him to be up and about like this—and promptly ground my teeth, resisting the urge to punch myself directly in the gut. I had never even _asked_. I just knew that he was in the hospital; nothing else. _'Great job, Mars!'_ I snapped at myself, the sarcasm in my thoughts enough to stifle anyone within a few miles' radius. ' _I can really see how much you care about him to not even ask why he's in the hospital!'_

However, I never got to beat myself up about it any longer than that, because Saturn was already moaning quietly, removing my arms softly from his grasp—

_And oh, God—Arceus—oh, dear Arceus above, those couldn't be—_

I pressed my hands over my mouth despite myself, unable to stop the motion. Saturn, having painstakingly struggled to his knees and decided he dared not reach farther, had extended his hands to me, and, contained within them, there was an unmistakable array of bright red flowers bound together with a black ribbon.

I didn't like receiving flowers. I never had. Of course, I didn't dislike the flowers themselves; it was the way they were always presented to me. I'd be handed a bunch wrapped in some plastic or other, sometimes with the price tag still dangling from under it, and then that'd be it; now I was expected to say yes, even if I didn't like the person offering them. As if that wasn't enough, half the time they didn't even pretend to be real—they'd be the cheap things with paper petals in blatantly bright colors.

These... these looked freshly-picked. In fact... they definitely _were_ freshly picked. I recognized these flowers; they were from the grunts' flower garden out back which I would never admit to being the founder of (because I had a reputation to uphold, and that reputation did not include an affinity for gardening). I could still spot dirt along the stems, clinging to the dew that clung to the flowers.

Obviously, he hadn't picked them. He was too immaculate—although that wasn't really the right word, because he was drenched in sweat, no doubt from the arduous task of clambering his way to this warp panel. The ribbon around them was clearly from Jupiter's hair. And, although I admitted to having a major crush on him, I was never deluded into thinking he was romantic like this. But that wasn't what made them precious. The freshness and realness was what made me like them regardless of the circumstances, but not what made me treasure them.

He was in pain. That much was clear. He was struggling to keep himself conscious. That much was even clearer. Yet he'd stumbled out here to give me a bouquet of flowers, ignoring his own pain.

For me.

I took them from him with slightly shaking hands, only now noticing that his eyes were trained on my face to gauge my reaction. As soon as I had them in my own fingers, his arms fell limply to his sides. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth. Immediately closed it. Opened it again. Closed it. Sighed.

"Um, Mars..." He trailed off for a moment. "I, ah... I'm..." For a long moment, he visibly struggled, grappling with his words like they were disobedient grunts who'd charged him with weapons in their hands. A dry laugh escaped him. "I'm not very good at this."

I couldn't help but snort. "Really? I never would have noticed."

He offered a playful glower that quickly transitioned into a smile. "I'm not very good at this," he repeated, the happiness soon draining from his face, "but, ah..." Another pause; he sucked in a deep breath. "I messed up, Mars. I'm allergic to a chemical that I have to work with for my major mission at the moment, and Cyrus..." Yet another sigh. "Cyrus is going to kill me." This time, his laugh was completely humorless. "Possibly literally."

That got my attention. "Cyrus isn't going to actually kill you, Saturn," I informed him seriously. "He doesn't kill people. He's a sociopath who I'm starting to think is really the wrong direction on a moral compass, but he's not a murderer."

Something visibly snapped and his face twisted suddenly into a contorted display of agony. _"No,_ Mars, he _doesn't_ kill people!" he wailed, his voice cracking. "He gets _me_ to do it for him!"

I froze.

He immediately seemed to understand what he'd said, because he clambered backwards with wide, fearful eyes, his back colliding harshly with the wall. "I—I didn't mean—I never—" He began to sob slightly, shaking uncontrollably. "I never meant—I didn't want to—I just—I just—"

And then I remembered a friend who'd gone missing shortly after blowing a huge mission; an acquaintance who disappeared around the same time he started losing all of the battles he fought. I recalled the way I hadn't seen Saturn for days after the latest incident—the only incident during which I'd been a Commander. And, when he had finally made a reappearance, he was distant and jumpy, as if he was sulking about something much bigger than the lost battle he claimed to be upset over...

Lunging forwards and dropping the flowers onto the ground, I flung my arms around him and resisted the urge to squeeze with all my might. It might hurt him if I tried, and he had been hurt enough already. He stiffened in my hold, but I made no move to let go; he needed this, and so did I. By all means, I should've been surprised when my own tears dripped down, wetting both of our shoulders, but I couldn't muster up the energy to care. I was to busy weeping quietly into his ear; things like "I'm so sorry" and "Not your fault" and "I won't let him kill you" and "I won't let him make you kill".

Soon enough, Saturn similarly broke down, clinging to me almost as desperately as I had clung to him. "There were five of them!" he sobbed between heartbroken gasps, and I could feel my own shirt quickly growing damp. "And they didn't do anything wrong! They had lives—families! And I killed them because—what? Because someone told me to?"

I didn't respond. I didn't know how to. But I didn't have to. He just trembled and wept, hugging me as fiercely as I did him, and that was the best consolation I could offer. I wasn't good at this; no better than he. I was used to just slapping on a smile and braving it out. He was used to suppressing his feelings and pretending they weren't even there. I supposed he took a page out of Cyrus's book in that manner. But the less I compared him to that deplorable piece of sub-human trash the better.

I don't know how long we sat there, just reveling in the comfort of each other's arms, but, eventually, his cries wound down to occasional sniffles. It was then that, through his slight hiccups, he muttered, "Mars, I... I like you."

It was probably the most anti-climactic moment he could have chosen, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. At any different moment, I might have froze up and refused to believe it, thinking that he was just playing a trick on me. But now I was too emotionally exhausted to do much else but laugh slightly and reply, "I like you, too, Saturn."

He shifted in my hold, swallowing thickly, and I could feel his arms loosen. "N-no—I mean—I _l_ _ike_ you," he stressed, his voice growing almost frantic. "Like—I _like-like_ you."

I didn't know whether to laugh about the fact that he'd misinterpreted my words as a misinterpretation or cry over the fact that he automatically assumed I didn't mean it the same way he did. Either way, as much as I wanted to call this troublesome or a bother, I couldn't help but think that it was a little bit adorable that he'd stated it in such a juvenile way. "I know, Saturn," I whispered in return, hearing his breath catch at my confirmation. "I like-like you, too."

His grip on me loosened even further. "B-but—but—but, I thought—" he stammered incredulously, as if he couldn't believe that I would return his feelings. "I—I didn't think I was—well—I'm not exactly good enough for you..." He mumbled the last part of his statement, but I caught it anyway. Before I could respond, though, he quickly amended, "I—I mean, I'm not your type! I'm too boring and stiff for you, and I would just hold you ba—"

_"Saturn!"_

My intervention stopped him in his tracks and he looked up pensively as I pulled back, my hands still on his shoulders, so that I could look him in the eye.

"...I thought that _I_ wasn't _your_ type."

For a moment, we both just sat there, neither saying a word. He blinked owlishly, as did I, each realizing with a start that we'd both had the exact same thoughts about the other. Smiles slowly began to build on our faces as the irony of the situation slapped us in the face. Uncontrollable laughter burst forth from my mouth around the same time that Saturn came as close to hysterics as he could get—chuckles that, although soft, were nonetheless unstoppable and constant.

As my laughter began to fade down, I gasped through wheezes for breath, "You know, I don't think I've heard you laugh before."

"You probably haven't," he affirmed, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. "I d-don't really laugh like this around others. Not even around my parents, if you can believe it."

"I can definitely believe it, Mr. "I'm-so-cool-that-I-don't-need-emotions"," I playfully jibed back, elbowing him lightly in the ribs—so light that it was barely a tap because Arceus knew I'd hurt him enough today. "You treat your emotions like fine wine—bottle 'em up and let 'em age."

Smiling softly at me in return, he murmured, "Well, I'm glad I get to uncork that wine when I'm around you."

I smirked in reply. "You do blush a lot around me, and you act pretty drunk, too!" With that, I poked him in between the eyes, causing him to momentarily go cross-eyed and then blink and look around deliriously, making him look appropriately drunk. We both broke out into booming chortles once more, unable to keep it in longer.

This was the best consolation I could offer.

But this was more than enough.


End file.
